


Past in Present

by Nunonabun



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nunonabun/pseuds/Nunonabun
Summary: Shelagh and Patrick explore the boundaries of personal and professional and the fantasies they repressed before they were able to be together.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Past in Present

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on tumblr from shelaghturnovaturner: A kiss... out of lust.

The warm light of the summer afternoon drew out the gold of the waves that tumbled down Shelagh’s neck. Patrick’s fingers recalled the softness of them, their alluring fragrance, the rapid flutter of the pulse they curtained. His lips followed the rivers of her body to their source, resting for a while in that thunderous valley before scaling the mountains rose from it on either side. Then down to the reservoir that now frequently drew on the body’s resources, flushed and throbbing. 

His eyes followed her. She’d felt them all afternoon, hot where her clothes clung to her curves. Shelagh wondered if her joining him in getting the new surgery in order was more hindrance than help. She herself had been less efficient than normal, mind wandering as it caught on the flex of his bare forearms as he wrote and drifting to memory at the sight of his afternoon stubble, such an exciting contrast to-  
No, this would not do. She resolved to bring it up with him that evening, in a more appropriate locale. For now, she turned to the boxes of patient files, narrowing her mind to the task at hand.

The dark blue fabric stretched tight over her arse, drawing his attention with memories of the firm press of it in the cradle of his hips as he took her frantically, mouths pressed to hands and clothes to muffle their cries.

Shelagh heard a breathless laugh behind her. Upon reflection, bending over may not have been such a good idea.

“You’re doing that on purpose.” He accused, eyes dark but mirthful as he leaned back in his chair.

Shelagh turned to him, eyebrows arched. “I most certainly am not. I wouldn’t… tempt you in a professional environment, Patrick.”

Though she’d become more comfortable expressing her sexuality, she was slightly uneasy being so explicit about his suggestion in his surgery.

He looked slightly abashed. “I’m sorry, I know you want to keep our private life private, and I’m more than happy with that. My mind is just having some difficulty obeying what I tell it to do.”

Shelagh’s thumb unconsciously rubbed her right ring finger, though it had been bare for months now. “Obedience was often a struggle for me when combined with some of my other vows. Especially in my last year.”

Patrick grinned wolfishly. “Oh, don’t worry, _my_ thoughts are perfectly in line with my vows.” She studied him. He looked quite rakish, his craggy face half-shadowed by the flop of his hair.

A wrinkle of curiosity added itself to his brow. “How do you do you get your mind to obey you? Do I have so little an effect on you?”

Shelagh frowned, affronted, and went to perch on his desk. “Patrick, that’s not true, I’m just better at controlling myself. I’ve had to be. It wouldn’t do to be dwelling on our more earthly desires during Lauds, for example.”

“What intruded on Lauds that you had to keep under wraps?” His voice was lower, slightly rough in a way that had quickly become familiar to her in these first few months of marriage. Would it be so wrong to go into it here? It was impossible to separate life into neat little boxes, experiences couldn’t help but meet one another, one running into the next just as the surgery extended up to their flat.

“Dreams I had been woken from, concerning a certain doctor.” Her voice had changed slightly, a low, teasing note breaking down her reserve.

He met her in kind. “You dreamt about me?”

“Nuns are still human, only more strictly governed ones.” She flushed slightly, as though revealing something she ought to have kept secret. But he knew well how human nuns were. Certainly he’d know it in a professional capacity, and he’d become very familiar with it in his personal life.

He held her gaze, seeking to maintain this enticing candour. “What did you dream?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Shelagh’s voice was mildly scandalized. He would have stopped if he’d felt she was uncomfortable, if he’d overstepped a boundary, but her propriety didn’t stop her from enjoying the eroticism of engaging in the personal within a professional space. Her pupils were dilated and he could see in her eyes all of the feeling professionalism denied her.

“Can’t you? Would bringing it into the bedroom be any more appropriate?” It was a genuine question, leading though it was.

“Well, the bedroom was where the… fantasies… took place, in my mind and out. Granted, the bedroom I laid in wasn’t the one I imagined…” She trailed off, curiosity sparking in her gaze.

“Did you have dreams like that? About me, as I was then?”

Patrick took a deep breath, he had been wary of admitting the things he’d thought and dreamed about Sister Bernadette, even though she was now his wife.

He spoke slowly, carefully. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or to,” he gestured vaguely, “disrespect your memory.”

His voice rose on the last word, making his statement almost a question. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to express the respect he wanted to assure her he had for the different phases of her life.

Unexpectedly she leaded down, kissing him urgently. He wasted no time in responding, running a hand up her thigh as she parted his lips.

Shelagh pulled back abruptly, her eyes as sharp and focussed as his thoughts were muddled.

“Is it exciting to you, to think of me as a religious sister, knowing me as you do now?” She thrust her notions of neatly delineated feelings and actions away, frustrated by the grip those rules still had on her.

“Yes,” he breathed, reticence gone in a wash of desire. He tried to pull her back, to lose himself in her once more, but she titled her chin back at the last moment. He closed his eyes, rubbing his nose over hers, entreating her to come closer.

“What would you be thinking now, if I were still Sister Bernadette, and we were in the parish kitchen, uninterrupted.” She murmured, her breath hot on his parted lips.

Shelagh hadn’t quite realized she wanted this, to make past desires flesh, to act out what she’d so vividly imagined all of those torturous months ago.

The corner of his mouth turned up, wising to her game.

“I would be thinking that I want to push up that heavy habit of yours and feel your lovely legs.” She swung her legs over to the other side of the desk, shoes resting on the chair beside his thighs, allowing his hands to mirror his words.

“I would be imagining undoing your stockings,” he did so, tantalizingly slowly, trailing his fingers up the skin he revealed. He bent to place a teasing kiss on her inner thigh before standing to continue uncovering her.

“I was greedy, I wouldn’t stop until I could see all of you, touch all of you.” He slid a strong hand around her waist, leaning her back as he kissed her once more.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him flush with her naked arousal.

He gasped, and she picked up the narrative. “I would want to feel you against me, properly, without your coat,” she pushed it off his shoulders, “and I hardly think your tie would be appropriate in this situation.” She freed him of his tie, shirt and vest with impatient fingers.

He hummed in amusement and nibbled at her ear. “Certainly not.”

Her breath was coming in short pants, her head spinning as his clever fingers found her sensitive folds, and the delicate bud at their apex.

She leaned back for a moment, twining her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply as she revelled in his attentions.

He bit her lip, drawing her back to their play.

“I would still be curious about the doctor’s anatomy. I would be shy, but feeling it against my leg,” he pressed against her obligingly, “I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back.”

“God, I want want you.” He groaned as she unzipped his trousers and cupped him in her hand, stroking him firmly through the cotton of his underpants. He got rid of those impediments hastily, returning his hands to her hips to pull her close.

She let out a guttural cry as he thrust into her. Their kisses were frantic and sloppy, rushed, as though they might be discovered at any minute.

“Sister, oh, please yes,” he gasped out endearments and entreaties as she rocked forcefully against him, one hand gripping his arse. He was shocked by the passion her habit concealed and he didn’t want this to end. They couldn’t burn long, by god did they burn bright.

His hand was hot on her hip, thumb stroking over its hard ridge as he pounded into her. Ecstasy lit every nerve ending and she abandoned herself to it, clasping the doctor she didn’t dare think of as hers close as her body burst into flame.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, muscles snapping and jerking back to attention as euphoria overtook him.

They came down slowly, limbs weak with pleasure. He looked to her, fleetingly worried she might regret this, but she met his gaze with clear-eyed satisfaction and he felt a lightness settle in his chest. There was no shame between them, nothing they couldn’t explore together so long as they wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback, so drop me a comment below :)


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